


Sick of Running, Scared of Falling

by tupelouharry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, M/M, No Smut, Oh wait, but its not well written so dont worry, harry is so in love, i guess you could class this as a uni au, i just want u all to be safe, im sorry i cant write smut, in case that triggers anyone, louis is hurt, louis wants to be an actor, louis/OMC is only the focus for a few chapters, okay i think thats all, okay so, pls forgive, silly boys in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 15:15:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3124922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tupelouharry/pseuds/tupelouharry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Telling himself to man up, to grow up, and to accept life as it had been presented to him rather than taking the reins on his own life, could only push him so far. David had torn him down to such a shrivelled version of himself that it repulsed him, without even doing anything. Zayn insisted it wasn’t Louis’ fault, that David was suffocating him, with his words and actions. Louis had every right to live his own life. Of course he did.</p><p>This wasn’t his fault.</p><p>*~*~*</p><p>After escaping a relationship that left him suffocated and cynical of love, Louis Tomlinson returns to London, and bumps into who could most definitely be the love of his life. Fluff, angst, and a whole lotta silly boys in love ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS FIC IS MY BABY.
> 
> I had this idea a while ago based on my own feeling towards love at a particular time. I have such a good feeling about this one, and I fully intend to see it through to the end. This means that this is my first chaptered writing project, so all criticism, positive and constructive, is most appreciated, as I'm looking into writing as a part of my future, which is only something I have had the guts to consider recently, thanks to my lovely friends, online and not.
> 
> Special thanks to Ryan and Emma for proof reading this and helping me out and just generally making me more confident. I owe you hugs. 
> 
> Follow me on twitter @bigspoonlwt for updates on when I'm posting! If you've come from twitter, I love you dearly.
> 
> I am way too nervous to be posting this.

Sick of Hiding, Scared of Falling

One.

It is often when we become teenagers that we fall in love with love itself. The idea of love, and of being in love possesses your innermost thoughts, to a point in which you are tricked into believing that you are in love with another, when it is simply the idea of love with which you are besotted. We grow upon the idea that love is textbook. That when someone is prepared to serenade you to sleep through crafted messages which ping through to your phone and leave a smile in your heart, or when they take you to lavish restaurants to wine and dine you in a bid for your love, it simply must be the love from movies, from books, that was so untouchable until you met that special someone.  
This is often the belief of teenagers. Then we allow ourselves to grow up.

 

*~*~*

 

When Louis Tomlinson was in his first year of university, his story began like most others. Confused boy from a small town moves to a big city to chase his dreams, falls in love with a handsome guy, gets a teaching degree, they buy a house in a tiny village in a remote corner of England. The dream.

Louis hates tiny villages.

His nan used to live in one, and every other Saturday, his mother would bundle her miniature army of children into the car and traipse on over to her cottage for mugs of tea and cookies. That was pleasant enough, Louis spend many fond days cuddled up in front of the fire with his Nan. But what drove Louis insane was when he was handed a £5 note by his mum and told to get out of the house, and explore the village, which Louis found to be baron. One corner shop that doubled as a post office, and a community where everyone knew everyone, and nothing was private. The trees were greener, the air fresher, and everyone was overwhelmingly kind, yet he came to dread the claustrophobic feeling that accompanied visits to his Nan in her tiny village, the need to escape to a big city overpowering his teenage years.

The buzz of electricity through his veins when he set foot on a stage was like nothing he had ever experienced. And he knew that it was different for everyone, his teachers had told him so from a very young age. Told him that everyone is different and unique, and that that is okay. He knew that someone would experience the same spark when performing open heart surgery. Someone would see a whole new world, sat in a racing car. What he knew he had to do, what everyone had to do, was to keep that flame ignited, once it was lit. There was a whole new world beckoning to him, and he promised himself every night that he would make it there. With every rehearsal, every show, he was inching closer. He had never been more excited. 

His younger sister, Lottie, was a budding beautician. She used to paint lavish designs onto Louis’ nails as he slept, strokes of matte and glitter combining into what appeared to resemble a professional finish. When the stars made an appearance in the dusky skies one night, when Louis was 16, a 9 year old Lottie crept into his room, with inspiration and promise in her eyes. Louis’ heart soared with it. She told him that they had made posters in school that day, about what they wanted to do when they were older. He listened, impressed and proud, as his sister whispered animatedly about her dreams to be a stylist to the stars. She wanted to ‘curl beautiful long hair and paint famous peoples nails every day!’ as she had put it. So naturally, Louis’ heart sunk when Lottie had changed her mind a few years on, having decided that her aspirations were unrealistic, and that she was considering journalism as of that moment onwards.

All Louis could think was how her determination once shone through the twinkles in her eyes, remembering seeing the very same look in his mirror when he was younger. He snuck downstairs and bookmarked a few more agencies on the rundown family desktop that night before he closed his eyes. He vowed never to let that spark die.

 

*~*~*

 

For some, the day you move to university comes around much quicker than you would like. Louis couldn’t sleep on the day he was finally set to get the train to St. Pancras. He would miss his mum’s home cooking and his sheets that smell off home, but London and the secrets which it held were enough to keep Louis awake with excitement and anticipation at five that morning. Hugging his mother goodbye, allowing her tears to stain his shirt as his sisters crawled up his legs was a gut wrenching thing for him, enough so to make him reconsider his decision. Was he doing this too young? He wasn’t too sure. That was, until, he stepped off of the train of St. Pancras a few hours later, stepping into the embrace of the big city. He smiled to himself because he knew this was where he belonged.

Moving into the uni dorms was smooth sailing in comparison to the tales Louis had heard about nightmare roommates and bed complications. His cousin had told him about the time he offered to share his bed with a girl from across the hall because her accommodation had been messed up on her first night. (They’re engaged now. Another reminder that university was the place for anything and everything to happen. Louis had never been more ready.)

It was 5 in the afternoon when Zayn knocked. By some stroke of luck, Louis had landed a dorm of his own, which, after spending most of his life surrounded by his sisters, was a very welcome change. He was stood by the window, trying to recollect his thoughts. He wasn’t in Doncaster anymore. He was in London, the big city, his dream since he was little. He was finally there, doing something for himself. 

“Good for you, Tomlinson.” He murmured under his breath, swearing that he wouldn’t get emotional. “Good for you.”

His momentary silence was shattered by a loud pounding on the door. Louis took a second to groan, before remembering that he was at university now. This was his life, and he was so excited. Anyone could be at his door. With a deep breath, he opened it, about to say hello when a dark haired stranger bound into his living room. He wore tattered jeans, a white shirt, and peered around with eyes that could only be described to be the colour of molten gold, with cheekbones that could cut like knives. Louis wasn’t blind: he knew that this man was very attractive. He tugged self-consciously at his own shirt, mumbling a welcome before looking up to him with a raised eyebrow, prompting him to explain why he had just forced himself into Louis’ dorm. 

“Uh, I’m Zayn, and I’m gonna say it as it is.” He spoke, voice worn and fed up. Louis felt for him instantly. “My roommate is a complete dick. I’ve only known the guy five minutes, and he’s already bringing girls back to our place! So I spoke to the housing office, and she said that if there was anyone in the building that would share, then I could move out. Look, I don’t even know your name, but-“

“Louis,” He smiled, warming to Zayn, sympathising as if he had known him his whole life. “My name is Louis.”

“Louis, hi, listen, ive tried every other dorm on this floor. I can’t possibly stay in mine, unless I wanted to listen to him fucking another girl ever other hour! Which, I don’t, by the way, I, um, have a girlfriend.” He added weakly, cheeks colouring a light pink. Louis barely knew the guy, yet he was already planning what to get the two of them for dinner that night. He liked Zayn.

“Of course man.” Louis answered, beckoning Zayn into the kitchen to fix him a drink before he was swooped up into his arms, smile tickling his cheek.

“Thanks man. Fancy pizza for dinner?”

 

*~*~*

 

David came across to Louis as everything he had escaped to the city for, a simple, breath of fresh air that he had craved for such a large portion of his life. He was 3 years older, in his final year of university when Louis made the leap to London at 18, having waited long enough. His deep green eyes and blond hair, drawn up into a quiff, had him captivated from the moment he laid eyes on him. David was an artist, a creative soul who, in Louis opinion, crafted magic out of everything he touched. He saw the world through a different eye, offering Louis an exclusive perspective on a silver platter. He swallowed it whole, hungry for more, mistaking it for love.

Instantaneously, before he could even contemplate his changed situation, Louis had a boyfriend to tell him he loved him and take him for breakfast, to buy him flowers and wish him luck for auditions. He got to brag about David and introduce him to his friends, who were more than happy to see Louis shine, assuring them that moving to London was the best decision of his life. 

The shift in career path was a change which Louis claimed back then to be a decision of his own. Yet, ever since he was younger, he simply knew that he wasn’t here to work a standard 9-5 job in a set of sky rise offices. He wasn’t here to become the adult that it appeared so many people wanted him to be. His mother insisted that it was okay for Louis to grow into his own person. She often revisited the saying “Just be yourself, love! Everyone else is taken, after all.” He fell back on that, relied on it like a backbone when his closest friend Liam chose to go into law, at the same time Louis bookmarked another agency to audition for when he was to arrive to London. Zayn chose to live by similar morals. When asked by Louis in the debut light of the sun, he simply answered “I write to please myself. Everyone else can fuck off, to be honest.” And in that moment, Louis was happy, insistent that the stage was calling his name. Knowing that if his followed the call of the spotlight, like he had throughout his childhood, then he would make it. He knew it would take time. And that was time he was willing to give.

So it came as a shock to all who knew Louis; his mum and his sisters, Zayn and Liam, when the auditions stopped rolling in. Louis insisted that he simply wasn’t hearing back from any, dropping hints that told of looking into other options. But it was when David began to weave tales of his brother, of how he was a teacher of chemistry at a secondary school, and evidently of how proud everyone was of him, that Louis’ ears began to perk up. 

That night, he pulled up courses to become a primary school teacher. No one noticed the timing but Zayn. He said nothing either way.

 

*~*~*

 

Louis wasn’t sure when he subconsciously began to give up other elements of his freedom in the name of this so called love, but with David spending long hours at the studio, dinners alone became frequent, and paranoia became immanent. When faced with question by question from Zayn, he shoved him off time and time again, but it was only after the 3rd time it was pointed out to him that he knew it true. And it scared him to his core, because he was so certain that it was love for him and David, that he upped and left everyone in London and that this was it now, this was his life. Louis knew he wasn’t happy in his claustrophobia inducing cottage in a village he had never heard of, teaching children whom he loved dearly, yet one thing was evident. 

His heart was in London, not with David.

 

*~*~*

 

“I can go and see Zayn if I that’s what I want to do, David.”

It was an evening like any other, with David sketching the rain attacking the windowpane as Louis hovered in place by the front door; keys in hand and patience running thin. A few months had passed since Louis began to doubt his relationship, and he had been living scared of that fact ever since. Sure, he had gone about his business, pushing the looming truth to the back of his mind, but it had been months since he had seen Zayn last, even longer since he had seen Liam. Being with the two of them was the last piece of himself he hadn’t radically transformed for the sake of his relationship.

“It’s not my fault you prefer to spend time with Zayn over me, Lou.” David spoke, sharp and full of spite. This wasn’t the voice Louis wanted to hear for the rest of his life, nor did he wasn’t to be chastised by it. “Something I should know about?”

“No! Of course not, Dave, why would you even insinuate that?” Louis retorted, words spilling from his brain, hurried. He was petrified to the point of stuttering, which didn’t worry Louis anymore. It angered him. “David, this isn’t fair. I feel as though I could explode! This isn’t fair!”

“Right, and what exactly is it that I’m doing, Louis? Because all I see is you tearing this relationship to the ground, and not only do you not care,” David shouted, pausing to peer into Louis’ eyes, accusing, grasping what was left of him that he didn’t already own. It drove Louis mental. “But you’re blaming me!”

“I can’t breathe, David.” Louis spoke, soft, breath catching on the feelings rising to the back of his throat. 

“What are you-“

“I love to act. I love the stage, and the spotlight, and the buzz that zips through my veins. I felt as though I could do anything back in London, as long as there was an audience and a director to shout go.” Louis breathed, taking a seat across from David in the living room, hesitant to look into his eyes.

Even there, in his own living room, did he feel out of place. The sofas were the wrong shade of purple, and the stack of work beckoning to be marked sent chills trickling down his spine. He longed to be with Zayn, in his shabby flat that smelt of weed and good times, where the fridge was never full, and the couple down the hall were always bickering. In Zayns shabby flat, he had a voice. A voice of his own. 

He wondered when his voice stopped becoming his own around David.

“I hate villages. And I told you this, when we were looking for a place. Dave, I told you, but you insisted and begged and pleaded. I don’t mind this place, but I didn’t choose it with you. That’s not right.” He continued, thoughts spewing over the edge, eyes brimming with tears in the corners.

“Louis, you’re really pinning this on me? What exactly are you accusing me of?” David stood, lifting the roof from their home with the tone of his voice. Louis gulped. What was he accusing David of?

 

*~*~*

 

Earlier that week, he had sat down with Zayn, with a beer in one hand and his thoughts in the other. He confessed that he felt suffocated, that he wasn’t truly living his own life since he and David had become serious about their relationship. He told Zayn about how he felt stripped of his own life. He had stopped acting, he moved away from London and now found himself as a primary school teacher. He cried to the moon. He knew that wasn’t him, that wasn’t who he was, nor was it who he wanted to be. Inside, he felt empty. Zayn pulled him into the same warming hug that he had when he was homesick in his first week of university, and when he and David had had their first fight. It didn’t heal him in the same way. This time around, his wound was deeper. He admitted that he was confused about the whole matter, because it felt as though David truly hadn’t done anything of substance.  
And well, wasn’t that just the problem? David hadn’t done much at all.

But telling himself to man up, to grow up, and to accept life as it had been presented to him rather than taking the reins on his own life, could only push him so far. David had torn him down to such a shrivelled version of himself that it repulsed him, without even doing anything. Zayn insisted it wasn’t Louis’ fault, that David was suffocating him, with his words and actions. Louis had every right to live his own life. Of course he did.

This wasn’t his fault.

 

*~*~*

 

“I’m accusing you of tearing me down. Of stripping me of my thoughts and feelings, of telling me who I am to a point that I don’t even know!” Louis screamed then, patience tearing at the seams, walls crashing down like he had been hitting at them with every little part of himself. It felt good. “All I did, was mistake that for love. I can’t be like this anymore.”

Something inside David must have snapped, then, because he turned to face the wall, inhaling the air, poisoned by their words, before turning to face Louis again.

“I’ve given you everything, Louis! I have done nothing but love you for four years. Four years of love, and trust, and milestones!” David insisted, attempting to crack at Louis’ resolve with his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me. What sick bastard manipulates in his own head, his loving boyfriend to be an emotionally damaging scumbag!”

“You are an emotionally damaging scumbag! If you weren’t, then why am I like this? This isn’t the man that you fell for in London, but you are the David I thought I loved. No one has changed here but you. And that is your fault. I used to love my life, you know? I used to be optimistic about my future, about my present. About love.” Louis growled, confidence growing with every word he spoke. “But you, you are exactly the same. You lay around in that studio, day and night, you put me down and you make me feel like shit! You make me feel so bad about myself. You don’t do that to someone you love. You don’t get the god given right to make me doubt every single choice I make.”

The ticking of the kitchen clock was clearly audible. The television was still blaring a talk show from its speakers. All Louis could hear was his heart in his ears. His mind began to whirr, thinking of the bag of his possessions that was awaiting him in his car. A tugging on his heart asked him if he would even miss David when he left. He wasnt sure of the answer.

“I don’t have the power to change you until you give it to me Louis.” David spat, so low it would have gone unheard to a soul whose ears hadn’t learnt to pick up traces of every word he spoke. In that moment, Louis could envision his freedom on the horizon. A smile crept onto his face as he made his way to the door, this time taking in his surroundings to boost his confidence in what he was about to do. “I gave you all of myself, and you did the same in return. Or attempted to. That’s a part of love, babe. Not that you would know, of course, spending every waking moment with Za-“

“Fuck you, David. Fuck you. If this is love?” Louis murmured, looking David dead in his cold green eyes as he gestured wildly to their home, David’s house. Louis’ belongings were in his car. He was a single man now. “It’s exactly what I’m running away from.”

 

*~*~*

 

Perhaps the most unnerving part of that night for Louis was the simple relief he felt when he slammed the car door shut and turned the key in the ignition. The storm clouds in his brain subsided, and he drove towards a sunnier day.  
He drove towards London.

 

*~*~*


	2. Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii here it is!!!!!
> 
> Sorry, updates will be slow because of GCSE's :((((
> 
>  
> 
> Love to you all. x

Two. 

 

Louis sat in his car, gazing out of the window as the condensation blocked his view of the world. His world. The world which he now lived in, without another body to keep him warm when it was cold. To give him shelter from the rain. He felt lonely. Lonely, but so, so free. 

Excitement and anticipation filled his windscreen.

Because, he wasn’t exactly alone. He had Zayn, and Liam, and he was now free to see his mum and sisters, a privilege not granted to him by David whilst they were together. Which, 

Louis came to realise, was never supposed to happen. He always promised himself when he was a child, and his mum had found another agency for him to apply for, or one of his sisters had clung extra tight to his leg after he had been out all day, that he wouldn’t go a day for as long as he lived without telling them exactly how much he loved them. How much he needed them. And for as long as he was with David, his feelings towards his family only ever grew stronger, stashed away deep in his heart. Hidden from David and from the world, causing him pain unlike anything he had ever felt. Despite the freedom he found himself with, sat in his car in the middle of who knows where, he still felt a dull ache inside of him. It continued to tug at his heartstrings and pull him apart piece by piece.

Louis was far from better.

A tear made its way down his cheek as he felt a burning in his gut, every part of him screaming and crying out for his mum to hold him in her warm embrace, trailing soft fingers down his cheeks. He would like, for a moment, at least, to retract into the shell of his teenage self, in tiny, un-extraordinary Doncaster, where he was smiling and he was Louis. He was himself. 

He left the side of the motorway with a smile, enjoying the feeling of triumph that blossomed in his chest.

*:･ﾟ✧ 

 

Louis arrived at his childhood home in Doncaster at 1.52 am.

His tearstains were barely visible over the grin plastered over a mouth that used to remain clasped shut. His eyes bore into his childhood, over the brickwork he had traced over and over with his fingertips, over the porch where he sat to recollect his thoughts. He felt okay. For the first time in years, he was okay, he was seconds from his mum and he was okay. 

He placed a hand on the door handle and gave a gentle tug, only to remain met with crumbling paint and a silent house. And it shouldn’t have upset him as much as it did. It shouldn’t have ate away at his core and made him feel so alone. But his mum used to leave the door unlocked for him, when he was a teenager with nothing better to do. She knew him well enough to know that he needed to escape some nights. 

With a deep breath, he bent down to the letterbox and called his mum, like a teenager once again. He supposed, that the situation was no different from back then. A broken heart and a terrible mistake. It seemed as though he would never learn, which was equally terrifying and frustrating. Louis knew that he was a man with a steady job, and that he shouldn’t be crying to his mum after a sour breakup, like the Doncaster teen he was trying so desperately to escape. Yet, David was different. He always had been. He called desperately to his mum some more, before hearing the sounds of frantic footsteps clambering down the stairs, like his had so many times before. 

“Louis?” she whispered, reaching out to touch his face, as if in disbelief, leaving Louis with a heavy heart, wondering when he became such a stranger to his own mother.

“Why did you stop leaving the door unlocked?” he asked, trying for a laugh, but it became stuck in his throat, like most of his words. Tears gathered in his eyes. “It’s like you weren’t expecting me back.”

“My baby boy, what did he do to you?” She spoke into his ear, before taking her crumpled son into her arms and slamming the door shut on the harsh reality of the outside. 

*:･ﾟ✧

Relaying his version of events to his mum was much tougher than Louis anticipated when he was smoothing over his story in the car ride back to his childhood house. It meant admitting that he allowed David to take advantage of him and the love that he thought that they shared, without him even realising. That was one of the harder parts, really. Accepting that he didn’t even know that he was living in the claustrophobic life he was escaping. He was embarrassed. 

And he was terrified. Terrified because he fell so hard for this man, this man who promised to love him and love him, even when it wasn’t going so well. That was what he thought he needed; someone to tell him that his hair was nice, or to give him flowers and cook him dinner. The fact remained that he got his definition of love so horribly wrong. In his childhood bed that night, he sat questioning the existence of such a thing. The irony made him sick. Less than four hours ago, he thought he was in love with a man he barely knew.

 

“Mum, I thought I knew.” The sharpness of the truth cut through the silence. “I thought I loved him.”

Jo smiled sympathetically as she rubbed on Louis’ hand, which remained clasped in her own. “You’ve always known. I’ve loved you before I even knew your name. I never even realised it was possible to feel so much towards something that wasn’t much bigger than a Brussel sprout. But I did. I do. And I’ll never stop. Neither will Mark, or Liam, or Zayn, nor your girls. We’ll never stop, Lou. You’ll always know.”

 

Two minutes past three in the morning saw Louis unable to sleep. Despite the relief that spread though his bones, there was something left that he had to do before he could let go of David and move on with the rest of his life. 

He needed to break up with David, for good. 

Cautiously, he crept up the stairs to his mum, who had left him in the living room to his thoughts. The slight creak in the second step brought him a feeling closer to home, warming him from his heart down to his toes.

“Mum?” he whispered apprehensively into the dark. “I really need to see Zayn. Is that okay?”

“Honey, I dropped him a text when you got here. He’s probably waiting up with some hot chocolate and a hug. He loves you, Louis.”

“I know.” Louis smiled, feeling the pull at his cheekbones. He wasn’t sinking, for the first time in months. He genuinely believed in his own ability to keep himself afloat.

“You’ve got this, baby.” Jo whispered, and Louis heard the grin in her voice. It was one of the few things he could always rely on, come rain or shine.

“I love you.” He told her, allowing the words and their weight to sink through the slight crack in the door, before clambering hesitantly into his car and driving towards his closest friend, where he could always love and receive it in return. People like that seemed hard for Louis to come by in that moment.

*:･ﾟ✧

 

Another hour crawled by at a snail’s pace. Which, for Louis, was a welcome change. Sat in the seat of his car once again, he felt as though he could appreciate the palette of colours in the sky, and the flickers of light in the houses. It gave him a small beacon of hope. 

Zayn was exactly as Louis had anticipated; with there being no need of telling the story to him at all. He knew the entire plot, back to front and inside out.

“I’m so fucking stupid, Zayn. You knew, mum knew, everyone but me! Who does that make me?” he sobbed into the sleeve of his old green sweatshirt Zayn had handed him, knowing that it was exactly what he needed the second he fell into his arms at almost half past four, when he assumed he had been sucked dry of tears to cry. 

He proved himself wrong. He didn’t like the feeling of being right all too often.

“Not everyone is as brilliant as me, Lou.” Zayn murmured, trying to lighten the mood, yet he sported a sympathetic look that mirrored that of Louis’ mother not much earlier. “But that’s the whole point, mate. You weren’t meant to know. That’s why it worked.”

Louis let out a wail. He had become the weakest version of himself, the replica he promised never to be. He despised every mirror in Zayn’s living room. It told his story all too well, though the darkened rings under his eyes and the tatty sweatshirt on his back. He hated that he had left David, yet he still had this element of control over him.

“But Louis. You gotta listen to me here mate. Are you listening?” Zayn spoke, every word laced with care as he looked at Louis. Zayn had always had this gift, of telling an entire story, a novel depicting love and loss. He told everyone how much he cared for them through a flutter of his eyelashes. He continued staring right through Louis before their tear streaked eyes met one another. He nodded. “This is no way your fault, do you hear that? David is fucking sick. He needed that control over you to feel like an ounce of a man. Well, fuck him, Lou, fuck him.”

“He still does.” Louis whispered after a few seconds had passed, embarrassed, yet in need of reassurance. He needed further relief, having almost forgotten what it felt like to breathe. “Have control, I mean. I still feel as though we haven’t broken up properly. Like he still has a part of me I won’t ever get back.”

Silence dragged over the two as Louis attempted to focus on getting his breathing together, watching Zayn as he scrolled through his phone, eyes softening at something he had seen.

“Emotional abuse,” Zayn began, words shadowed with hesitance and sincerity, the combination of which rattled Louis’ bones to the core. “is when someone does something to hurt you, and when you express your feelings, that you’re upset, they turn it around to be something you did to hurt them and they force you to apologize-“

“Zayn. You can stop now.” Louis begged, eyes searching desperately for a distraction. Although a part of him knew that this really was what he needed to hear. Two words that classified what he went through so accurately, so seriously that he simply couldn’t put off the thought of it any more.

He was a victim of emotional abuse.

And more than anything, he felt stupid. Insignificant. Because was that even a thing? It was a trick of the mind, he was convinced. It could have been just as much him as it was David. Really, the whole situation was so minuscule compared to relationships he had heard about prior to his own going a tad sour. People were raped. People nearly died. And yet, there Louis was, a victim to his own mind. 

“Lou. Your feelings were rendered invalid and silenced, damaging your ability to trust others with your feelings. That is not a small deal. That’s a lasting impact on your life, for God knows how long.” Zayn continued reading, an expression of disbelief possessing his features.

“Yeah Z, and it fucking sucked.” Louis shouted suddenly, years of bravery making its way out of where it had been hidden for far too long. “It sucked, but there’s nothing we can do, so let’s just fucking drop it, all right? Go grab a burger or something, I don’t care.”

Louis knew that it was impossible to drop it, of course he did. It was like a bomb had obliterated everything he was certain he knew, the weight of which still pulled at every part of him. His eyes were red. His heart was shattered. He had no home. 

“Take me away from here, man.” He whispered, confiding his deepest fear and his closest secret. “Let me escape.”

Zayn made no work of pulling his broken friend into his lap, holding him close. With his head falling pliant on his chest, Louis felt his heart against his ear, solidifying his reality with every solid beat.

“I know somewhere we can go.” Zayn promised, beginning to pull Louis from the sofa. “We’ll go there, we can sit and talk and just be. We’ll take as long as you need. Then you’re staying here until you rediscover Louis Tomlinson. Because, what I can remember of him is pretty great.”

*:･ﾟ✧

Louis cried silently the entire ride. Zayn pretended not to notice.

 

*:･ﾟ✧

 

Louis found comfort in the unfamiliar village Zayn had driven them to. He didn’t remember falling asleep, but when he opened his eyes, they focused on trees, outlined with the colours of the rising sun. A new day. The sound of Zayn’s weathered red truck slowing to a stop on some gravel awakened his senses and his mind. They had arrived at a field, which, in all its barren glory, managed to capture an essence of beauty. There was a bridge Louis could see a little further down the road, coated in graffiti of vibrant colors and patterns. He noticed immediately why this particular field appealed to Zayn. He liked that he knew him so well, after everything they had been through.

“Where are we?”

“Holmes Chapel.” Zayn announced tiredly, reaching for the door handle, prompting Louis to lock the car.

“Stay. Get some sleep. I’ve had you up all night taking care of me, mother of mine.” Louis laughed. It sounded robotic and emotionless, even he could tell. “Thank you, Zayner.”

“You’ve got this, brother.” Zayn whispered, and Louis knew he was already half way into some of abstract dream he was sure to hear of later.

*:･ﾟ✧

Louis set off immediately in search of a hill. He knew that he could sit at the top and clear his mind before coming back down and beginning to sort things out. It was a foolproof plan devised back when he was at secondary school, and he had seen someone particularly talented in his drama class and decided there and then that he would never make it as an actor. He was crushed.

But it did help, to ride his rusty red bike up the tallest hill he could remember, and expel his secrets to the wind. Yet, somehow he thought that it wouldn’t have the desired effect this time around.

He had no idea what to say.

On top of the hill, Louis saw the sun rise over the sleepy village. Stunning pinks melting into blues and simple yellows, swirls of color and beams of light. He remembered Zayn bringing him here once before, when he was hired to paint a mural for a primary school. He recalled feeling dizzy from spray paint fumes and good times, as the two of them stumbled the streets happily intoxicated at 2 am. Simpler times, he remembered.

All of a sudden, he knew exactly what he needed to say.

“I want to be free.” He told the grass that was clenched in his fist, having taken a seat in a patch of daisies. “I want to remember who I am.”

The wind whistled back at him. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for.

“I want to know what I want! Give me what you know I need!” he began to shout now, desperate to be unhanded from the vicious cycle of love and hate, of confusion and clarity.

Louis didn’t even know if he was fully over David. He wasn’t sure he believe the stories Zayn spun, of emotional abuse and of being in the right. It was normal, was it not? All couples fought. He could return to David that night and write it off as a lovers tiff. That’s what he usually did after all; sweeping his feelings under the carpet.

“Well. I never thought I would see the day. Another befuddled soul in Holmes Chapel. I was starting to think I was hopelessly alone in the world.”

Louis’ train of thought was broken by a rough voice, sounding as if he had just left his bed and headed straight for the countryside. His disheveled appearance matched this description accurately, Louis thought, as he peered up at him from where he was towered way above. Tattered boots sat on pigeon toed feet, with twig like legs enhanced by ripped skinny jeans. He wore a baggy flannel, barely buttoned, and a fedora lay perched upon shoulder length curly hair; which was clearly the victim of a sleepless night. A student, most probably. On his face was a crooked smile, accompanied by two crater like dimples, and crinkles by eyes so green, they could have been a mirror reflection of the grass beneath them.  
Louis wasn’t blind. He knew that this stranger was more picturesque than the humble village had been all morning.

“You and I are more common than you think, dimples.” He smiled sadly, beckoning the boy to sit with him, to which he complied. “But what brings you here, person I’ve never met?”

“I needed to breathe.” Was his simple reply. To Louis, it spoke volumes.

“I think I breathe easier around people.” Louis suddenly said, unsure as to why he was beginning to empty his innermost thoughts to a stranger. He shouldn’t have found it as intriguing as he did.

“I don’t know how I do anything, really. That’s why I’m back home, to find what I want to do.” He spoke again, enticing Louis with every slow spoken rumble. It calmed him down. “I’m studying photography, and I don’t know where I’m going next.”

“Where are you now?”

“London.” He whispered, eyes lighting up with the thought of the big city, and, well. Louis knew exactly what that felt like. He knew the rumble in his chest when he thought of the sky scraping apartments he dreamed to be a part of someday. He knew the twist of his gut when his mind used to drift off in class, dreaming of the hustle and bustle of London, his childhood dream, and how honoured he was to be even a miniscule part of it. He knew all too well the sigh in his heart when he drove away for good, with David’s hand clasped a little too firmly in his own.

“Do whatever it is that makes you happy in the moment you are in.” Louis told the boy firmly, being sure to look him in the eyes. “No one else should matter.”

With that, the boy linked his boot clad feet with Louis’ smaller ones. There was a height difference, but it worked better than Louis knew it should after only having known each other a few minutes.

“Jesus kid, you’ve only known me five minutes!” Louis chuckled, leaning gratefully into the warmth of the taller boy. “I don’t even know your name.”

“My name is Harry Edward Styles. I am 20 years old, and I am a photography student in London, but you knew that.” Harry spoke, smile growing the deeper he looked into Louis’ eyes. Louis attempted not to do the same. “Let’s see. I love cats and my mum. And my sister, on special occasions. By special occasions, I mean Christmas. You’re up.”  
Louis laughed, feeling lighter than he had in months. It may have been a little premature to say that he was immediately taken by the pigeon toed fedora boy, but he couldn’t peg it to nothing. A spark had been ignited, and for the first time in far too long, Louis was excited.

“I’m Louis William Tomlinson, I’m 23. I’m stuck as a primary school teacher currently, and it’s making me want to slam my head in a car door, repeatedly. I miss London more than I miss my own sanity and self-confidence.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to go back to my old primary school and teach!” Harry exclaimed, shifting slightly to hook his chin onto Louis’ shoulder. Louis waited for the nerves that never came. “In fact, you can see it from here. The bell tower.”

Harry’s mint tinged breath tickled Louis’ ear. Louis didn’t mind.

 

*:･ﾟ✧

 

After the minutes trickled into hours, and the sun was on full display in the skies above Holmes Chapel, Louis and Harry had been talking mindlessly about anything and everything. Louis had a burning feeling in the back of his head that Zayn would be waking up soon, cheek pressed to the glass of the car window, instantaneously worried sick. It should have made Louis jump out of his skin and rush to the car, but fuck it. He was allowing himself to be selfish. It made him feel human again. He tugged on another of Harry’s curls, letting himself enjoy the smile that sprung to his face upon hearing Harry’s goofy laugh.

“So, the last thing I want to do is leave you right now,” Harry spoke sadly, after the subject of who was to win the latest series of Celebrity Big Brother had crept up into conversation, much to Louis’ delight. “I wish I didn’t have a train to catch. Don’t much fancy going back to London.”

“I’ll trade with you, bud. You take my life, and I’ll go back to my home.” Louis whispered, not intending for Harry to hear another accidental spill of his mind. It was evident he did when he was swept up into a crushing hug, breathing in the intoxicating smell of mint and grassy hills.

“My number’s in your phone as Sexy Harry from the Hill.” Harry promised him, triggering splutters of giggles from them both. “Seriously Lou. Text me, yeah. Morning, night, whenever you need me.”

Louis nodded as Harry set off down the opposite side of the hill with a salute. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but feel a little empty as he text him a handful of penguin emoji’s. For all he knew, that could have been the last he had seen of Harry from Holmes Chapel.  
He was determined not to let that happen.

*:･ﾟ✧

A text from Harry pinged to his phone on the drive home. He pretended not to feel the parade of butterflies in his stomach.  
“I breathe easier with you. xx”

Only then, did it sink in that the world was much wider than David, and his job as a teacher that he never truly wanted. The world was whatever he made it, and Louis knew then, that with people like Zayn and Liam, his mum and sisters, that he could shape it into something half decent. It would be by his standards, and his alone.  
He wasn’t okay in the slightest. But, he knew, he would get there soon.


End file.
